The Chimera Company
by LArtoriusCastius
Summary: Years ago, three men left their homelands to seek a fortune among the battlefields of Esso. In present day, a young dragon leaves her birthright behind in search of her destiny. AU.


"You look nervous."

"I am never nervous. I'm..." Oberyn paused at Ned's statement, honey dripping off his knife onto the loaf of bread below. "I am simply perplexed."

"For a reason you wish to remain silent about?" Ned asked as he set his mug down. A small desk of dark wood separated the pair, with the dim mornings rays of the Braavosi sun came through the window. Dim candles on the walls provided enough light for both men. They sat with a plate of bread, and smoked meats before them, sharing a small jar of honey. "Was that an attempt to soothe my worries?"

"Not in the slightest." The Dornish prince admitted as he brushed crumbs from his tunic and poured himself another mug of wine from the pitcher. "I simply have a puzzle, yet I find myself unable to solve it. What need does a dragon have for a chimera?"

"I might be able to help if you were to give me a straight answer." Was Ned's clipped response as he began to stack the plates and cutlery. He had logistics to attend to, and pay to be administered. If Oberyn wished to play word games, he could do it with someone else. Particularly someone who didn't have a meeting with the Iron Bank to prepare for, he thought as he shuffled his desk back into some semblance of order.

"And where would the fun in that be?" Oberyn asked. No response game from the Northern man, his jar of ink already out, and parchment unfurled as he began to sort through the various costs and expenses of their last campaign. "There is a Targaryen in Braavos."

"Good for them." Ned's quill didn't falter in it's stride as he went about his business 'counting coopers' as his compatriots so politely put it. He let them get away with it. Every time they made such a joke, or committed an actual punishable offense he took a cooper out of their account, and gave it to one of the various temples of the city. Mercenaries learned best when their pay felt the blow instead of their backs.

"A Targaryen princess, asking about the Chimera company." Oberyn continued as a few arcane sparks danced across his fingers to his mug of wine. The previously lukewarm liquid had turned to a pleasant chill as he spun a silver dragon on Ned's desk. Oberyn was well known through the city to pay for information he might find interesting, or to learn what the general populace though about a certain subject, so it came as no surprise to Ned how he found out. Ned only cared to know why it mattered.

"We are not the Golden Company, we do not do war on Westerosi soil." Ned said as he dipped his quill in ink and continued his work.

"I'm sure we could bend company policy if it meant fighting in the Westerlands or the Reach." That, got Oberyn a stern look as Ned's gaze went from parchment to the Dornishman's eyes. "But that is besides the point. Apparently she wishes to slum it with some sellswords."

Ned paused and set his quill down to look at Oberyn. He opened his mouth to same something, then reconsidered. He leaned back to stare at the far wall. "That is puzzling." Ned mumbled quietly as Oberyn poured him some wine.

"Isn't it?" Oberyn pushed the mug towards Ned, who nodded his head in thanks as he took a slow swig.

"Is she an actual Targaryen?"

"She has the look, she has the alabaster guard dog, and she has some coin, so I'm inclined to say yes."

Ned took a slow breath as he stroked his beard. He'd have preferred it longer than it was, but Southern living was warm. Far too warm for a proper beard, so he kept it trimmed short. How Robert put up with it was beyond him. "What in the world would a princess be doing looking to join a sellsword company?"

"And now you get to join me in pondering." Oberyn said with a certain smugness as he drained his mug and poured himself more wine. "Perhaps she wanted freedom? The first sane dragonlord in nearly three hundred years and she saw it was best to leave that rats den of a kingdom."

"A sane person does not give up their royal title and it's comforts to go warring for their daily bread..."

"Don't tell Baratheon that, he might take offense. Besides, we are hardly any better." Oberyn grinned as Ned cleared his desk. This wasn't a problem yet, but it had the potential to become one. The latter parts of the Targaryen dynasty were not exactly known for rationality, and the last thing either man wanted was to be in the line of fire. Coppers could wait another hour.

"We, are second sons. Set to inherit little or nothing, unless the worst happens." Ned hoped it never came to that. He felt out of place as a leader of a sellsword company, he could only imagine how poorly he'd bungle kingship of the North, the people would hate him. He took comfort in the thought that his last letter from Brandon had mentioned a small pack of strong and healthy children. With a sigh Ned leaned forward. "Could she have been kidnapped?"

Oberyn shrugged. "She has a Kingsguard attending to her, so again. Unlikely. Perhaps she's an idiot. Perhaps she is bored. Perhaps she is as mad as her father, and simply wants to reestablish the Valyrian free hold with an army of dashing men at her back. All are likely when dealing with a Targaryen."

"And to think, I was looking forward for a restful fortnight."

"Don't lie, you get as little sleep as I do, and lack the excuse of whores to keep you up." Oberyn teased as he stood up. "If you can think of any reasons why we might have a dragonling on our hands, I shall be dragging our good Lord Robert out of his drunken stupor and setting him loose on the troops."

"And if the princess does make an appearance?" Ned asked, ignoring Oberyn's first statement as he gathered his quill.

"Then, we'll give her an interview like anyone else. I wouldn't turn down a bit of company, assuming you or Robert were free though." Oberyn's smirk was confident. Ned was sure in the Dornishman's mind he could take down a Kingsguard and her Dragonrider master with ease, but years in the Northman's presence had beaten the barest sense of caution into the back of his head. With a pommel, repeatedly.

"I have to discuss interest with Eilogo today, but after that, I am free."

"Excellent, let us pray to the Seven that she doesn't show up until tomorrow so Robert doesn't have to sit still for longer than an hour."

Let us pray to the Old Gods that the girl doesn't show up at all, Ned thought as Oberyn took his leave to wake Robert. Once Robert was settled, the daily drills would begin as the rest of the company woke up. Ned should have known better, Oberyn was rarely up this early without cause. He sighed again as he waved a hand at one of the unlit candles. The wick ignited with barely a muttered word as Ned made his silent prayer then set himself back to his task. Targaryen or no Targaryen, he had work to do.

0

His prayers had gone unanswered. Later he would muse that was unsurprising. The closest thing to a Heart Tree was an oak with a crudely carved face in one of Bravoos's sparse gardens, and he could only guess how far away he was from a genuine weirwood. The ancient whispers of the Old Gods were quieter in Essos than Westeros. Promises and wishes were harder to hear at a distance. He would try to resolve that later with a proper heart tree when the opportunity arose, they had bought the compound for a reason, so he need only put it to use, but for now he was bent over a work table, muttering incantations and making hand gestures as flickering, incomprehensible runes hovered over a sword.

The power of the Arcane was a rare find in his homeland. Those with a mystical bent were sent to the Faith if they were in the South, or the Green Men and the Children of the Forest if they were north of the Neck. It was these practices that kept the Seven Kingdoms strong, and safe from outsiders, if in constant state of disagreement. The druidic practices of the North was more welcome in the Stormlands, rather than the Reach where the clergy of the Seven was strongest, for example.

Essos was a separate beast, most arcane users forming the upper echelons of society. Fat nobles, happy to use their gift for party tricks, or to get one over a rival. Priests of Rhaelor, happy to demonstrate their god's might when given the chance, while the Masters of Slaver's Bay kept their 'wares' in line with arcane means among other things. Magic, like anything in the Free Cities, and Essos was a trade commodity, to be bought and sold.

Such thoughts were of little matter as Ned whispered in an eldritch tones as he worked to imbue the sword with enhanced strength. He had long hours to look forward to before the sword would be finished, but the end result would be worth it. The Chimera Company was small, but Oberyn, Robert and himself had come to an agreement on it's inception. They would never settle for being a second-rate company of low-lifes. Oberyn and Robert's pride demanded better of them, and Ned outright refused to be part of anything nefarious.

They were not as large as some of the older companies, but they were growing and held an impressive reputation behind them. Every member of the company was held to a standard and those who could not measure up were dealt with appropriately. Those who could were rewarded. With a magical sword for example.

A magical sword that would need to wait as a firm knock resounded on the workroom door. Ned paused, and took a second to compose himself. The last thing he needed was cursing whoever was in need of his attention out of reflex. Unrolling his sleeves, Ned turned towards the door and opened it. A skinny bald man with a prominent hooked nose stood before him, thin rapier at his side in his fine tunic.

"Syrio." Ned said, bowing his head slightly out of respect and politeness.

"Eddard." Syrio returned the greeting with his accented Westerosi. "Ser Oberyn has sent for you. A new recruit has come to join our company, and you are asked to sit in."

"Thank you Syrio, I shall be along shortly." Ned wasted little time, waving a hand to douse what few candles he had burning before exiting the room. A quick turn of the key, and it was locked. Syrio led the way through the Company's compound, his foot steps quiet as a whisper, as they walked. Ned kept to Syrio's side at the man's hurried pace. He hoped that it was just coincidence that they had a new prospect after yesterday's conversation.

They passed through various court yards on their way to the meeting room, mercenaries going through stances, mock battles or simple exercises in each one at the commands of their squad leader. Some paused to shout greetings at the passing pair, to get either a raised hand of acknowledgement, or a similarly spoken greeting back before their returned to work. Discipline was the Company's greatest strength, but what held it together was a sense of unity.

"Have you been told who the prospect is?" Ned asked as they drew nearer to their destination.

"Just so. An odd pair. Given the chance, Syrio Forel would enjoy to test the man's steel." The Braavosi native said with a grin. "The girl though." Syrio clicked his teeth. He didn't offer any explanations as they came to a stop.

"Now, Ser Robert has accepted the challenge of Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos, and he shall not kept waiting." With a short bow, Syrio spun on his heels. Ned shook his head slightly and suppressed a tired chuckle as he muttered under his breath. He felt the force of the cantrip as it wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened his clothes. It was by no means perfect, but it would be of little confidence with Oberyn leading the interview. He was to hang back and observe unless needed.

Ned wondered if they were being paranoid. They could easily just let one of the senior squad leaders deal with recruitment as usual, but it seemed to stick in the minds of both men that a Targaryen was anything other than the usual. Ned entered, to find Oberyn joking with one of the compounds servants. An exchange of nods took place between the two men as Ned took his place at the back of the room.

The room was a simple long box, with two slit windows on it's southern side to allow light in and two doors. One door into the compound itself and another into a room reserved for waiting. Light shone through the windows, illuminating the table in the center of the room as well as the door prospects would enter from, while the back remained either dimly lit or in shadows depending on the time of day.

Finding a place in the shadows at the back, Ned waved a hand and muttered a few words. Where once there was a rectangle, there now was a square room as an illusionary wall of stone appeared between himself and Oberyn. The Dornishman finished his conversation with a laugh and muttered Braavosi as the servant left to bring in the prospects.

Ned stilled himself, allowing the shadows to cloak him as the door creaked open. He was now masked by illusions, and invisible. He would not consider it a test, but he would wait to see how they reacted.

The man came in first, unarmed and helmless. A dark face, and darker hair , he wore a pristine white cloak over his plate-mail. He looked to be Oberyn's height if not a hair taller, and slimmer than expected. What interested Ned was the sigil of his tabard. Nine black bats on a yellow field. Years ago, Ned had been sat down by a Maester to learn not only the heraldry of the North, but of it's surrounding Kingdoms. If his memory was correct, it was the sigil of House Whent. Oswell Whent, if this was an actual member of the Kingsguard, not an imposter. Whent certainly had an air to him, even as he stepped to the side and held the door open.

It had to be a trick of the light, or some arcane effect that she had prepared before hand, because Ned swore the room got brighter as the young women entered. Hair like spun platinum, and eyes that were hauntingly familiar, Lady Targaryen stepped into the room and took a seat across from Oberyn with an ethereal grace. She folded her hands onto her lap as Whent stood at attention behind her.

The conversation was in the back of Ned's mind as Oberyn started light, simple greetings and pleasantries as Ned tried to gather the young women's measure. Syrio's clicking teeth began to make sense. The hairs on the back of Ned's neck were standing up. It wasn't a trick of the light, there was an energy in the air.

Her name was Daenerys, a fact that Oberyn seemed to muse over before moving on. Whent explained some of his fighting experiences. He'd fought in the Greyjoy Rebellion, among other sorted battles. If he was to be believed, and Ned saw no reason to doubt him, he was just as skilled with a lance on horseback as he was with a sword on foot.

"And you, my lady? I do hate to sound rude, but I'm afraid that you do not look like the knightly type." Ned could just hear the smile that Oberyn used to charm discount rates at brothels rather than see it cross his face.

"I'm afraid that is true." The tone was almost mockingly sweet. "I am young, and rather inexperienced in the tenants of warfare, but I have always found myself to make up for such short comings of physical martial prowess with a more refined response." She said as she snapped her fingers. Four, gently glowing orbs circled around herself and her guard.

"Excellent, she knows parlor tricks." Oberyn clapped his hands together loudly, as if he hadn't been in the process of summoning a weapon to skewer the women alive if she'd actually attacked him. "I think I've seen enough. My thanks for your time, My Lady, My Lord. Ercole shall show you out."

Daenerys's brow furrowed, and her posture went from composed, to ridged and straight. "When are we to know if we are accepted into the company?"

"Now. I would happily take on a soldier such as Ser Whent, but I am not one who enjoys the baggage of women who can simply carry a light. So, I hope you have a good day, and are well in your travels. Thank you."

The princesses look grew darker. "I am capable of more than such cheap tricks, good Ser."

"As I'm sure you are." Oberyn said as he stood up, his posture like a coiled snake ready to strike. Ned could imagine the smile on his face. Fangs and venom.

"It seems rash. I haven't been given a chance to prove myself before being dismissed." Daenerys continued on stubbornly.

"Of course, but I wouldn't wish for such a delicate creature as yourself to be injured by an actual figh-" Oberyn's speech was cut off as pale hands slammed into the table.

"I, am by no means as delicate as you presume." The princess growled, her hair a halo of crackling energy behind her and one gauntlet covered hand on her shoulder.

"Excellent." Oberyn leaned forward to bring himself down to her eye level. "Your weapons shall be returned to you, and Ercole shall show you towards your proving grounds. Unless my compatriot has any qualms about this decision. Eddard?" He asked, refusing to break eye contact with the princess.

"Only with it's maker." Ned said as he dispelled the illusion and stepped from the shadows. He'd gotten barely a syllable in before Whent had reacted. Interesting, Ned thought. The man's first instinct was to pull the princess back, and behind him, then go for his sword. The knight grasped air just as he decided Ned wasn't a threat. Ned carried no blade, nor was he armored. Simple, open-necked tunic and pleated trousers.

"Perfect, we shall attend to you shortly." Oberyn said dismissively.

Daenerys paused, catching Ned's eye. It is an odd feeling to be so openly weighed, as amethyst eyes tried to pierce through his dour face. Better people than her had tried to peer past the wall of ice and stone that was Eddard's 'Lords Face', but to his surprise she simply bowed her head, pointedly curtsying to him alone. After he returned the gesture, the young women turned and left at a firm stride. If she was shaken, she didn't show it and her earlier outburst almost seemed forgotten as Whent shortly behind.

There was a pause in the air as Oberyn fixed the chairs, sliding them under the table.

"Must you?"

"Well, I, thought it went well." Oberyn defended as he straightened the last chair and dusted himself off.

"There was no need."

"Ah, but there was. We, have no need of a docile little court doll who knows a couple tricks to entertain the court. I enjoy my beasts of battle with a little more bite."

"That, is a dragon, not a simple hound."

"And it bleeds just the same, or have you so oddly forgotten your history? The girl certainly has spine, now let us see if she can back it up." Oberyn's smirk seemed to grow as he gazed at Ned.

"I almost wish she has the capacity to back it up." Ned said with complete honesty, it would do Oberyn some good for the occasional consequence for his action.

"Well, we shall find out. Now, go get dressed, I have wine to drink and armor to don myself." That drew Ned to pause.

"Pardon?" He didn't say it dumbly, but with a certain amount of surprise. He was dressed.

"Armor and weapons, you agreed to the duel alongside me."

There was a beat of silence, where Ned only stared at Oberyn. Quiet, and cold as ice, it was a scolding look.

"I love you too, now come." Oberyn continued as he ushered them both out the other door. "A duel shall be perfect to ensure we don't dull our edge between contracts."

 **An:** Yo. I have a few explanations of where this came from, but it's mostly just me watching far too much DnD related content and wondering where some characters in ASOIAF would fit. Also, I kinda wanted to explore the trio that is Oberyn, Ned, and Robert. And I could think of no better way of doing that than the three of them running a Sellsword company. But to reiterate, this is hella AU going back all the way to how Aegon's Conquest went down.

To get it out of the way, no, this is not replacing Smoldering Fangs. I have a chapter for that is three fifths of the way done, it's just being difficult, an. So in my attempt to try to avoid writers block I wrote this. Mostly cause I made a deal with myself that for every Ashara/Cersei thing I write, I need to write one for Dany or something else. Also this is my first published attempt at a male POV, Ned's. I'm always hesitant to write Male POV's just cause I don't want it to get self-inserty.

Anyways, as for class types. I had a hard time with some more than others. Daenerys and some like Robert were very easy. Oberyn and Ned were tough to pin down. I don't think it'd be considered it a spoiler, but I think I'll let people guess what Ned and co is. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Reviews, comments and concerns are always welcome, and I hope you have a good day! :)


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